Faux Punk
by minidoux
Summary: A short exchange between Dare and Oblio. One-sided Dare/Oblio. Note: This is going to be a chapter fic. Edit: Haitus. I dream of finishing this one day.


There's more to this, but I figured I would upload it in bits since I don't know when I'll be able to update again.

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><p>Pink hair ruffled soundlessly as the tall pale woman strutted through the dim nightclub, making her way toward a private V.I.P. lounge. She flicked the door open with ease, quietly clicking it shut behind her. A light tapping sound followed her footsteps as the young bespectacled dancer waltzed smoothly toward a slumped-over figure.<p>

The room was dark even without its toned-down lighting. Black upholstery, opaque curtains, and tinted glass lent a repressed, somber feel to it. A light smile grazed the female's pale pink lips. She was accustomed to the chilled, tense nature of the room, and bent over the sole occupant's lanky frame, gently brushing a patch of inky fringe from the male's forehead. He let out a disapproving growl, tilting his shades down and locking orbs with the neon princess.

"Kyoko-san..." he started in a gruff, reproachful voice, about to chastise the girl. The gearhead trailed off as if lost in thought, glancing away from the dark, piercing gaze that mirrored his own with a stiffness that might have been read as embarrassment. Licking his lower lip to re-familiarize himself with the taste of alcohol, the Japanese languidly shifted his hand, which tightly gripped a thick tumbler of Sake. The pale man let his lips twist into a devious smile, shaking his head as if to negate the previous statement. "Ah, but I shouldn't call you that, should I?"

Scoffing playfully, the British dancer twisted in his lap, turning so that she faced the lounge's main entrance. She ignored the punk's light jab, nuzzling into the comfortable warmth of his chest. The young man was wearing some sort of purple wife-beater with cheesy text printed on it, and the English girl's eyebrows shot up in amusement.

"Could've done a betta job than tha'," she muttered lowly, fingering one of the threaded straps. Still, the exposed skin struck her as pleasant, and she ran a curious finger from the Asian's shoulder down to his wrist. He shivered, writhing beneath her weight.

"Nishi..." the pink-haired woman started, slipping into a slightly choppy Japanese accent. "...kun." She added the suffix as an afterthought, wondering if the dancer's childhood nickname would manage to crawl under his skin. "If yeh call me _Kyoko_, 'll call yeh Nishi." A subtle clinking was heard as the grungy male brought the cold glass to his lips, emptying the remains with a slight gulp. He furrowed his brow at the femme fatale's statement, frowning uglily. Frowns did nothing but raise his unapproachable aura, and the crinkled lips were displeasing to look at.

"Oblio," the Japanese deadpanned, clenching the empty flute tightly and fisting his other in black fabric. "Call me Oblio." He scowled at the girl laying comfortably in his lap. Her wig hair was stroking his inner neck unpleasantly, and the male let out a despaired grumble. The young woman sighed, satisfied, and nuzzled her head into the tender area.

"All right, all right, 'll lay off the teasin'." Dare quietly removed her heart-shaped glasses, laying them down on the couch. After all the day's dancing and clubbing, she was ready to let loose for the night, and the girl yawned relaxedly, mouth twisting into a wry smile. She eyed the empty glass in Oblio's hand with a hint of curiosity, sitting up in the male's lap. This caused Oblio to groan slightly, breath hitching in his throat for obvious reasons. The woman chose to ignore this, dark eyes flicking over the various empty bottles of alcohol littered over the nearby table. "Drinkin'?" she asked, eyes fixed on the glass surface. "That ain't like yeh,_ Oblio_." She emphasized the stage name with a sourness akin to sarcasm. The pseudonym left a bad taste in her mouth.

Oblio was relieved the girl was facing away from him, or else he would never live off the embarrassment. His cheeks were lit up an uncharacteristic red, and hazy mind blurred of inhibitions. The male shifted his legs uncomfortable, grumbling out a low, "Dare..._ off_."

"Hm?" The girl tilted her head up distractedly, grazing his neck slightly and causing his face to glow hotter in the dim room.

"Get off of me... please," he almost begged, incredibly out of character due to her offhanded approaches and his partial drunkenness. "I'll explain why I am... _was_ drinking, just get _off_."

Dare reluctantly retracted herself from the gearhead, mumbling sleepily and settling down next to him. She nuzzled against the pale exposed flesh of his arm, pleased. The girl wasn't particularly attracted to the boy, but teasing him had become a habit over the years. It amused her how easily his dark clouds fizzled around her, and she intended to push him until he cracked.

The Asian heaved a suffocating sigh, setting the glass down on the table and glancing at Dare though his pair of stunner shades. She started back at him, content with her current position. "Well, go on, then."

"My performance today..." the boy trailed off, words choking up in his throat. Dare was accustomed to the other's bundle of nerves and knew he only paused when he was deeply upset.

"What song was it, again?"

The neon princess wasn't trying to be a jerk this time, but the question seemed to sting Oblio. She noted this, recalling her complicated history with the boy. Ultimately, they were friends, though she often neglected the duty. "I'm sorry, love," she crooned tenderly, guilt gnawing subtly at her chest. "I should've been paying attention." The pink-haired girl recalled familiar music blaring through the club's speakers, but she'd been too busy chatting with handsome strangers and upcoming starlets to pay it any attention.

"Lapdance," the Japanese managed, though the song title made him recall their earlier friction and he paused awkwardly, violently repressing undue urges. "I was... dancing... and..." The male choked up again, stung by burning humiliation. "I have been practicing a lot, Dare." His dark eyes gazed at her childishly in an attempt to justify his embarrassment. The young woman merely returned the other's eye contact, seemingly unfazed by this display.

A violent cough broke the room's lingering silence as Oblio's body was stirred by rough spasms. His eyes were sore and his face was flushed an unpleasant red. A wave of nausea shook him, probably caused by the large doses of alcohol he had consumed, and the male tightly gripped leather fabric. Dare nodded for him to continue, enjoying the warmth of his arm rubbing against hers. He did.


End file.
